"That's right. But look!" The storyteller reached into his pocket and
brought out the most beautiful marionette the girl had ever seen. Her hair
was the blackest of black, long, and blowing wildly around her face. Her
lips as red as blood, her eyes amber. The long, flowing dress she wore was
like fire; brilliant oranges and reds falling in strips around her long
legs.

"Oh! She's beautiful!" the girl cried, closing her eyes. In her mind she
heard the enchantress singing, saw her dancing. "She's exactly the way I
imagined her!"

The storyteller winked and handed her the puppet. As the girl took it, it
seemed to dance right there in her hands, without moving at all, as if she
were real - no strings attached.*

Now thirteen, the girl stared at the little puppet, remembering her
favorite storyteller. She walked along the bookcase, admiring each puppet
in turn. After the enchantress, the storyteller had given her six other
marionettes: two clowns; a ballerina; a soldier with a drum; a man who
looked rather like the storyteller himself; and, her favorite, a man
dressed in all white with feathers, resembling a dove. The storyteller had
also given her a music box that played a tune that reminded the girl of a
circus.

'I wonder whatever happened to that man,' the girl thought, picking up the
enchantress and the dove man to put on a show for herself.

She had become quite a good puppeteer with her beloved marionettes, almost
as good as the storyteller was. As she began her story, she made the two
dance together to the music of her music box. She had the soldier play his
drum and the clowns jump around him. The ballerina danced around the
enchantress and the dove. The storyteller told the tale off to the side.
And right as the pace of the music was quickening and the story was getting
good, the girl's door opened.

"Bed, honey," her mother told her, closing the music box.

The girl sighed, carefully put everything away, and hopped in bed. As her
mother went to close the door, she stopped and picked up the enchantress.

"I'd forgotten these little things' charm," she quietly stated, admiring
it. "They're beautiful..." Suddenly snapping out of her trance, she placed
the enchantress in her spot on the shelf, turned to kiss her daughter
goodnight, and left.

As the girl lay in bed, she stared at the beautiful dove man, and it
started to dance. It wasn't just him though; they all were! She sat up in
her bed and stared at them - but they were still.

"I must have been dreaming," she told herself, and she laud back down.

Suddenly, she heard the storyteller's voice telling her a story as the
dolls sang. But this time, they weren't puppets anymore. There they were,
in front of her, in her room. But it wasn't her room either! She was
standing in a clearing in a forest, a glass door standing in the middle.
The storyteller sat on top of the door watching the ballerina twirl around
it. But there wasn't just one; there were tons of them. And all the clowns
and soldiers! But still one storyteller, one dove, and one enchantress.
They were all singing, dancing.

They were leaving! She tried to follow them, but she could only draw nearer
to the door and the storyteller.

"To get to them," the story teller chimed out, "you must pass though here."
He pointed down at the glass door. Looking at it more carefully, the girl
realized it was just a piece of glass, floating about an inch from the
ground. It gave off a comforting warmth and seemed to be playing the tune
in her music box, softly and distantly. She touched it, and suddenly was
filled with a happiness like she'd never felt before. The glass was almost
liquid...

Slowly she walked around it, examining it. "But it's just glass... there's
no way through," she observed.

"Go on."

She picked up her courage and stared into the glass once more. All at once,
she jumped, closing her eyes, and landed right on the other side.

"Good," the storyteller commented. "Now see if you can..."

"Catch us!" chanted the clowns from all over the forest.

Suddenly, an almost eerie music began and the clowns popped out from behind
the trees everywhere, and then disappeared. The girl began to walk around,
looking for the dove.

'There! Behind that tree!'

He smiled at her, luring her closer. 'Oh, those icy blue eyes!' She spotted
the enchantress, who leered at her and disappeared. Looking back to the
dove - 'He's gone!'
She stared up into the trees and saw the storyteller there, smiling.

Suddenly, she began to run. 'Where is he? I must find him!' They were all
running. She chased them. How did there get to be so many of them? Hundreds
of clowns chanting "Catch us;" hundreds of soldiers beating on drums,
marching away; so many ballerinas gracefully spinning and leaping away; all
appearing and disappearing everywhere.

"No! Wait!" She cried.

He smiled at her again, and then disappeared. 'Wait...'

The enchantress danced away singing a spell.

'Where are they taking me?'

Deeper into the woods they ran, the storyteller always sitting up in the
trees, watching.

'A clearing! But where are they all?'

Only the enchantress was there, singing. The lullaby was so sweet, so sad,
so powerful. The dove stepped out, smiling so kindly, walking - almost
floating- to the enchantress, who began to dance. The lullaby wasn't just a
lullaby; she was casting a spell on him! It was the story he'd told her,
the one she always told...

They danced and danced. 'No! Not him!' But he still smiled at her.

They appeared from the trees again, laughing. All the clowns leering at
her, teasing her, the ballerinas dancing with the soldiers, singing.

'But where did the enchantress go? Where is the dove?'

The clowns were laughing, pointing, taunting. 'Stop!' All those drums...
where did all the music come from? Who was singing?

Faster, faster they were dancing. The enchantress' voice echoed from the
trees. They danced around her, taunting, teasing, laughing, chanting.

She was scared... running, looking for the dove. 'Where is he?'

She came to another clearing...or was it the same? The music began again,
and the dancing around her was no longer teasing. 'A ball!' the storyteller
conducted the music, telling a new story with no words - a tale that tells
itself. They danced, waltzing and twirling and bowing and singing. What
fun! And, oh! The dove! He danced in the canter, and the girl walked toward
him - gone! 'No!'

The enchantress - how beautifully she sang! The girl twirled as the
enchantress sang, smiling. The dove danced there; the clowns surrounded
him!

The music slowed, and they spun around as one, forming circles around the
dove. She joined them and watched the dove. Suddenly, the music quickened -
Lost! 'He's leaving!' She ran after him, clowns and soldiers slowing her as
the music got faster and faster and - stopped.

Just the dove and the enchantress remained, dancing in the clearing. She
was singing. The girl looked up and saw the storyteller...the puppet
master! He had them on strings the whole time! 'He's not real...'

She looked up at the storyteller and cried, "I'm going home!!!" And she
ran.

"But you are home!" the clowns called, beginning to chase after her.

"No!"

'Where's the door? I have to go home! I have to go home...'

"I have to go home!!!"

They were popping out of trees, she was singing, he was no longer her
smiling. He was crying, running after her. She kept singing, they chanted
and shouted, the drums pounded, dancing, spinning, so dizzy!

"Leave me alone!"

"You don't want to go back!"

'Where is that door?' She was lost... or was she? The clearing! The door!

"You can't get back through there," the storyteller told. "You can try, it
won't work."

And she touched it - no longer was she happy; she was cold. It was like ice
and hard as steel. She stepped back, looking through the glass to the
enchantress singing. Smiling, the girl mad a fist.

Crash!

The music changed. The enchantress no longer sang the same; it was sad.

They all cried out, fading. The storyteller looked shocked, falling from
the tree - and he broke.

Her precious porcelain marionette!

"It must have fallen from its shelf," her mother suggested, picking up the
pieces. "I'm so sorry...I know you loved it..."

"Wait!" The girl cried. "Take them all. I don't need them anymore."

Goodbye to my dream world Goodbye to my dream world Goodbye to my fantasy world

The author would like to thank you for your continued support. Your review has been posted.